Donnel's Promise Page 2

  Lenora peered over Verony’s shoulder. ‘You do look a little like her.’ Under her intent scrutiny Risha stifled an urge to open her mouth and display her teeth. ‘Though the resemblance is perhaps not as strong as it might have been.’

  Ciaran intervened, her fingers cool on Risha’s hand. ‘You are most lovely, my dear, as was your mother. Tell me, how is Donnel?’

  The topic carried them down the hall. As she turned to acknowledge yet another introduction, Risha’s attention lodged on a portrait that hung above a raised dais. A man with hair that swept from his temples like the half-raised wings of a cockerel gazed towards her across the years but, despite his regal bearing, it was the petite woman at his side who dominated the painting. Her eyes were the bright cerulean blue of a summer sky above the mountains, her auburn hair — Risha’s hair — falling in sculpted waves to her waist.

  She turned toward the image, the gaggle around her breaking open.

  ‘My dear—’

  She shrugged Verony’s hand from her arm and pushed toward the painting. A stab of cold bit through her soft leather slipper. She glanced down. The floor, the steps of the dais, were awash in red. Risha stumbled. A firm hand gripped her arm. She stared into eyes she didn’t know.

  Vormer was at her other side. ‘Are you quite well, Lady Arishara?’ His eyes were flat pools of grey. She looked down. Red stained his shoes, wicked up his legs. Risha stared at his hand on her arm. Blood from his fingers soaked her sleeve.

  ‘My fault,’ a bluff voice announced. ‘I trod on the poor girl’s foot. It will be quite bruised I’m afraid. Let me help you to a seat.’ Ignoring Vormer’s objections, the giant at her side swung her up in his arms and deposited her in a chair. The room had gone silent. Risha stared around — she seemed higher than she had been. Across the heads of the crowd she saw Athan, his face bright with anger as he waded toward her.

  ‘Better?’ The man’s bearded face was close to her own.

  Risha glanced at the floor. The pale stone slabs were clean. She cleared her throat. ‘Yes. Thank you.’ She met his eyes. They were brown, flecked with green, and there was a depth of kindness in them — and something else. ‘It wasn’t your fault. I tripped, I think—’

  ‘No.’ His tone was definitive. ‘I caused you to stumble.’ He knelt to test her ankle, his hands surprisingly gentle. ‘There’ll be bruising. Best you just sit here a moment.’

  There was more beneath his words than she could grasp. Everyone was staring. She looked down. Beneath her hands, the arms of the chair were ornately carved, the tapestry seat tasselled in gold. Understanding swept through her. ‘This is—’

  ‘Aye, and now it’s yours. Don’t let them tell you different.’ He was Donnel’s age, perhaps a little older, his hair and beard more grey than black.

  ‘Talben, what is going on?’ Athan stood on the first step of the dais, his cheeks and neck an unhealthy shade of red.

  ‘I crushed her wee toes,’ the giant said, gently setting Risha’s perfectly undamaged foot back onto the floor. Did she imagine his wink? ‘She needed to take her weight off it.’ He rose to his feet and stepped from the dais. Even a step lower than Athan, he towered over the man.

  ‘Why are you even here? I don’t recall issuing an invitation.’

  Talben’s smile spread slowly across his face. ‘Did you not? And there I was thinking the courier must have got lost.’

  ‘I’m sure my foot will be fine, thank you—’ she hesitated over the name — ‘Talben. I’m most grateful for your assistance.’ The vision of blood pulsed in her head. ‘And really, I don’t think it was entirely your fault. I stepped sideways rather suddenly — it’s the voyage, I think. Every now and then it’s as if the sea still rolls beneath me.’

  ‘Perhaps you would prefer to retire to your rooms,’ Athan snapped.

  ‘I will be perfectly all right if I rest here a moment. Please do carry on.’

  Ciaran was suddenly in front of her. ‘My lady, you look most at home in your grandmother’s chair. And she would have been delighted to see you there.’

  ‘May I atone for my clumsiness by fetching something for you?’ Talben asked loudly. ‘Refreshments or—’

  ‘You’ve made your point, I think, Ben.’ Ciaran’s words were quiet, her glance towards the big man quelling. He subsided without looking in the least chastised.

  ‘Are you a member of the Council, sir?’

  Talben laughed. ‘Little chance of that. I avoid the city generally. I knew your grandfather. And your mother,’ he added, sorrow darkening his eyes. ‘She’d have been proud to see the lovely young woman you’ve become.’

  Something hollow uncurled within Risha’s belly.

  ‘Ben is defender of Havre’s northern marches,’ Ciaran said. ‘And my brother.’

  Secret Council

  ‘I doubt I shall ever keep straight who is married to who, and who related, and who one shouldn’t mention in the company of one or another. They’re like a flock of hens vying for the highest perch and never missing an opportunity to pull a feather or two.’ Risha flung herself sideways in the chair, her legs hanging over the arm.

  Lyse frowned in disapproval, but Timon only grinned.

  ‘I see my lady is a little out of sorts this morning.’

  ‘Timon, they will drive me insane! Four days I’ve been here, and not one moment to myself! I am constantly surrounded by a gaggle of petitioners, eager to show me this and tell me that — to one-up each other and engage in their petty rivalries, rather. I do not wish to be a part of it.’

  ‘You can’t live in a castle and avoid politics,’ he said mildly.

  ‘Yes, but real politics: the politics of the duchy, of Elgard, not this—’ she flapped a hand, searching without success for an appropriately scathing word.

  His brows twitched. ‘I recall you announcing that you wanted nothing to do with the politics of Elgard.’

  She sat straighter. ‘Timon, I have yet to attend a Council meeting; yet to hear a single purposeful discussion. Do they mean to closet me forever with their wives?’ She frowned. ‘Do no women sit on Havre’s Council?’

  ‘Mistress Melling sat in her husband’s stead during his illness two years ago. It caused quite a stir.’

  ‘Is it Athan’s plan to keep me away from anything that matters?’

  Timon fetched two dainty cups from the tray Lyse had set on a table and handed one to Risha. ‘You’ve been here four days. They’ve spent months preparing fêtes and entertainments for your arrival. You can hardly complain at the trouble they’ve gone to.’

  ‘Yes, but it’s all so … so interior! I’ve yet to set foot outside the castle grounds. I want to see Havre, to meet people who don’t dwell in this hothouse of parlour gossip.’

  ‘You’d rather the gossip of fishing villages and farming communities?’

  ‘I want to do something.’ She shifted restlessly, tea slopping from her cup.

  Timon affected a foppish air. ‘You were in just such a state the first time we met. Has Fretha failed to instil any decorum at all?’ He smirked at her reaction. ‘Perhaps the same remedy is at hand,’ he added.

  She set down her cup with a crack. Lyse tutted.

  Timon sipped his tea. ‘I believe a troop of guardsmen is newly returned from an excursion to the west.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘The troop’s captain is not unknown to you. He might be prevailed upon to supply a mount and escort, should you ask him.’

  She was on her feet before the words were fully out of his mouth.

  ‘You have an appointment with Councillor Willart’s daughters,’ Lyse said.

  ‘Timon can deliver my apologies. They’ll simper most prettily I’m sure.’

  The young man shook his head. ‘The less I know of this, the better — but Lyse will do an admirable job of conveying them. She has settled into Havrean castle life as if born to it.’

  A blush climbed Lyse’s neck.

  ‘Where will I find the captain?’ Risha
asked.

  ‘He is likely still at the main stables. Your quickest route would be via the servants’ entrance. Turn left at the laundry soakhouse.’

  With her skirts bunched in one hand Risha hurried down the rear stairs, darted through the servants’ corridors, across the kitchen yard and along the narrow alley that ran behind the dairy and cheese room. From there she was in unfamiliar territory, but the smell of horse led her left, away from the castle laundry, around a corner that opened into a small cobbled yard. Following her nose took her behind a row of buildings that were almost certainly stables. She found an arch that led her into a tack-room and out to a larger yard busy with men in the process of unsaddling their mounts.

  She saw Nolan straight away, his back half-turned as he bent to check the hoof of his horse. Risha strode past the open stable doors, skipping to avoid a mound of fresh dung and startling two lads in the process of forking hay into stalls. ‘Captain Nolan.’

  He straightened and turned, his look of enquiry rapidly shifting to surprise, and something less definable. ‘Lady Arishara. I — are you lost, my lady?’

  ‘I was hoping to beg a favour, Captain. I heard you were newly returned.’ She glanced around. Curious eyes dropped from her own as the men around them found urgent tasks to attend. ‘I didn’t realise quite how newly. Perhaps I should not have disturbed you.’

  He wiped a hand on his shirt. She’d forgotten how charming his smile was. ‘My day is much improved for seeing you, my lady, but I suggest you maintain a safe distance: we’ve been in the saddle the better part of a week. How may I be of service?’

  ‘I’ve been here almost as long but as yet I’ve seen nothing of Havre beyond the harbour and keep. I was hoping, Captain, that you might find me a horse.’

  ‘Certainly. Ah — right now?’

  She shook her head. ‘I’m scarcely dressed for it.’

  As his eyes ran down her skirt his forehead rucked into a frown. She looked down. The hem of her gown was stained dark by mud, or worse. ‘As you see.’

  That smile again.

  ‘Perhaps tomorrow?’

  ‘Consider it done, my lady. Your mount and escort will be ready at nine.’

  ‘I should like that, Captain. Till the morning then.’ She turned to find the stable lads staring slack-jawed from a doorway, their heads ducking quickly from sight as she offered a gracious nod.

  Her split riding skirt drew covert stares as she descended the stairs the next morning. It wouldn’t do to go skulking out of the castle as if she were up to no good, Lyse had declared, and for once Risha agreed with the girl’s sense of propriety. Besides, she had been obliged by politeness to inform Verony of her plans, and to field the woman’s argument in favour of the amusements previously planned. In the end the mistress of castle entertainments had raised her hands and announced that there simply must not be discord between them.

  Risha felt rather pleased with herself as she swept towards the castle doors. The feeling lasted as far as the cobbled yard. The entourage that met her was more circus than soldiery. Horses with parasols bobbing above them, carts loaded with hampers and ladies, a troop of guardsmen looking distinctly out of place. Risha’s heart sank as Athan strode towards her.

  ‘Verony informed me of your desire for an outing, Lady Arishara, so I gave her permission to arrange it. The weather has conspired in your favour: you are assured of an excellent day.’

  Risha doubted it. ‘I had hoped for a ride, not a carnival, Convenor. Who is in charge?’

  He frowned. ‘I understood you had requested an escort led by Captain Nolan. If that is not satisfactory, I can—’

  ‘Captain Nolan will do nicely.’ Unless he was responsible for this. ‘Will you be joining us, Convenor Athan?’

  ‘Sadly, my time is otherwise proscribed. You will be adequately entertained I am sure: there is a very pleasant picnic spot at Little Havre. It is not far. The ladies will not be overtired.’

  Risha sighed and looked around for Nolan. His expression was uncharacteristically bland as he led an ancient pony forward. Risha’s jaw tightened as she studied it.

  ‘Did you select my mount yourself, Captain Nolan?’

  He cleared his throat. ‘I had another picked out, my lady, but Convenor Athan felt this the better choice.’

  ‘The animal was too spirited. We value you too highly to allow any possibility that you might come to harm, Lady Arishara.’

  ‘Which is certainly unlikely on this poor beast, unless it should drop dead beneath me.’ Her tone was lost on Athan, who simply nodded and turned away.

  An hour later, after several false starts involving forgotten sunhats and last-minute additions to the supply of food and beverages, the convoy set off. Risha urged her plodding mount forward to where Nolan rode at the head of the troop, pretending not to hear Verony’s repeated suggestion that she accompany the ladies. The countryside was pretty, and the high spirits of the children who ran beside them as they left the town cheered her a little.

  ‘You are very quiet, my lady,’ Nolan ventured. ‘Might I assume that this was not quite what you were expecting?’ His lips twitched at the look she sent him.

  ‘How far is it to Little Havre?’

  ‘At this pace we should arrive in about forty minutes. I predict it will then take the better part of an hour to select the perfect spot to settle, another to get the tables set up and the food arrayed. While that is achieved the ladies will stroll on the beach — it is very pretty, I promise you — then retire to the shade to dine; two hours should be ample. After that—’

  ‘Tables!’ She fixed him with a look. ‘As for this horse!’

  He glanced at the decrepit pony. ‘It seemed a compromise worth making to keep Convenor Athan from apoplexy. We appeared already to have lost the opening sally.’ He waved a hand at the entourage trundling down the road behind them. ‘But not, I think, the campaign.’

  ‘After the carts are repacked, I fear this poor pony might become lame,’ she said. ‘Were that to happen, I should be obliged to borrow a mount from one of your troop.’

  ‘Or ride in a cart.’

  ‘Perhaps I’ll borrow yours, Captain Nolan. I’m sure Mistress Verony would delight in entertaining you.’

  A smile flickered quickly across his face. ‘I’ve heard that she is a quite remarkable conversationalist.’

  ‘Oh, quite remarkable. Her conversation seems to have neither beginning nor ending.’

  ‘Perhaps a borrowed mount would be best.’

  Little Havre proved a prosperous village that seemed unsurprised to host a picnic of ladies.

  ‘Do you often come here, Mistress Willart?’

  ‘Please, call me Shallie.’ The stout little woman had a pleasant face somewhat marred by severely misaligned teeth. ‘There used to be an annual outing on Lady’s Day, but that has not been celebrated since—’ she hesitated, her eyes sliding sideways as if she might somewhere find rescue from the conversation — ‘for, for some time. When I was a girl, I recall it. These days we’re less — that is we’re not usually so — not that it isn’t—’ She came to a flustered halt.

  Risha adjusted her expression and arranged her words carefully. ‘I do appreciate the effort everyone has gone to on my behalf, but it must be quite tiring to forego your usual routines.’ She judged Shallie the least likely to be offended by this suggestion, and watched closely for a reaction.

  It was guarded. ‘Verony is enjoying herself.’

  Before Risha could reply a rider appeared and, at sight of them, turned from the road. She watched as the boy dismounted. He looked vaguely familiar. ‘If you’ll excuse me a moment, Shallie.’

  Nolan looked up as she approached. ‘It’s a message from the castle, my lady. Pel works in the stables.’ The boy ducked his head in assent.

  ‘A message for you, Captain?’

  ‘No, lady,’ the lad answered, staring earnestly from beneath a scruffy mop of dark hair. ‘I was told to find you and tell you “convening”. I don�
��t know what it means.’

  ‘Who sent you?’

  He shrugged apologetically. ‘I had it from one of the undercooks. She just said I was to get to you quick as I could.’

  She glanced at the chestnut gelding the boy had ridden. ‘Whose horse is this?’

  Pel’s eyes slid between them. ‘Captain’s horse, lady. Asked for him this morning. Dunno why he changed his mind.’ He shot Nolan an accusatory look.

  ‘My first choice,’ Nolan confirmed.

  ‘Might we swap mounts, Pel?’ she asked. ‘You would be slower getting back — perhaps you should eat something to sustain yourself?’

  His eyes flicked towards the tables, his lower lip caught between his teeth.

  ‘Captain, will you ride with me? Of course, you’ll have to divide your escort: we must not, after all, leave the ladies undefended.’

  The Council was in session when Risha marched into the chamber. ‘Gentlemen. My apologies: I was unavoidably delayed.’

  Eyes met furtively across the table.

  Extra chairs lined the walls. Choosing one, Risha set it at the end of the table, directly facing Athan. The councillors to her right and left — Morrel and Ortun — hastily adjusted their seats to give her room.

  ‘Lady Arishara, we really hadn’t expected—’

  ‘I had,’ she cut across him, ‘I had expected my Council to let me know when they met. I had expected them to involve me with enthusiasm, to help me learn how matters of governance are handled in Havre. I had not expected clandestine meetings when you thought me safely out of the way.’

  There was a fraught silence. Risha lowered her voice. ‘You really should have sent me further than Little Havre, Convenor Athan, if you hoped to remove me from the scene.’

  ‘Good lady, I assure you that was not at all my intent. I—’

  ‘Oh, but I think it was. Councillors.’ Her gaze swept the room. Vormer matched her look boldly, Athan’s glare was defensive. ‘Did you think me a silly girl, incapable of intelligent thought?’